


Wonders of the Earth

by anthracoceros



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: A storm, Fluff, M/M, a collection of little drabbles, also snufkin is trans, and some fluff, father son time, its not important but he sure is, the ocean, the ship is not much but i guess its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthracoceros/pseuds/anthracoceros
Summary: “It’s like the time we were on the Hattifattener’s island.”“Yes, I agree. Turbulent, but lovely, nonetheless. A wonder of the Earth.”





	Wonders of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in one day also i didnt reread it so its bad  
> i just wanted,,, to write some fluff ok. sorry  
> tumblr is codeine-3!

“Be careful, Moomin. It’s wet. Don’t fall.”

Snufkin had been situated on the beach for a while now. He did not sit on the blond sand, but rather at the foot of the boulder formations that environed their usual place of repose, where the waves carved away at the slate grey stone. The tide had pulled back to reveal small tidal pools that were dotted with tiny sea creatures and shells that Snorkmaiden, he thought, would thoroughly enjoy.

The vagabond sat relaxed at the very edge of these pools, where enough of the rocks jutted out of the sand so he could sit with his feet above the water. A storm was on its way, whipping the distant ocean and sending waves to the shore. As they broke along the rock bed, Snufkin and his milieu were sprayed copiously by the salty water. It was cool and refreshing in the humid heat of the approaching storm.

Snufkin would love to show this to Moomin, but he found it infeasible. It was much too slippery for his soft paws, and it would disappear as soon as the sea returned. He thought the troll would rather sit inside at a time like this, anyways. He thought.

After a while of watching the towering clouds, Snufkin heard a splash behind him. He said nothing, did nothing. He didn’t hear another loud splash but rather small ones, agitations that could only be caused by gentle, deliberate footsteps.

Moomin.

Snufkin called to his friend without so much as turning his head, which drew a noise of confusion. “Oh, how did you know it was me? You aren’t even looking.”

“Well, Snorkmaiden wouldn’t be at the beach before a storm like this one, and you were much too quiet to be Little My.” He finally adjusted to face Moomin, smiling laxly, remaining cross-legged on the crag. The troll was soaked up to his knees, slowly tiptoeing towards Snufkin.

“This is so fascinating, Snufkin,” he said, finally stopping in front of his friend. He looked down at him for a moment, smiling, then turned his head to the sea. “I saw so many little animals on my way over here, even some fish!”

“Is that so?” Snufkin stood. “I didn’t really look. I was watching the storm.”

“It’s like the time we were on the Hattifattener’s island.”

“Yes, I agree. Turbulent, but lovely, nonetheless. A wonder of the Earth.”

The two stayed for a moment in silence, both marveling at the choppy waves. Moomin gasped. “Oh, right, I came to come find you.”

“What for?”

“Papa said your tent wouldn’t stand a chance in the thunderstorm. I was worried about you.” Moomin smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I know you don’t like it when I worry. I wanted to know if you would come to Moominhouse for the night. Mama’s made cookies, too.”

Snufkin chuckled. “You don’t need to worry about me. However, you may be right. Look over there.” He pointed to the horizon, where thick sheets of rain and pewter nimbus clouds were periodically illuminated by bolts of lightning. “It’ll be rough. My tent is too old for this kind of weather.”

“So, you’re coming to the house then?”

“Yes, Moomin, I think I will.”

Snufkin met the other’s eyes then, and they were glittering with excitement. “Oh, that’s wonderful! You can sleep in the guest room if you’d like.” The troll grabbed the wanderer’s paw and started to lead him towards the daffodil-colored sand. Even though the spray of the cold ocean continued to douse them, Snufkin felt warm.

 

 

A crash of thunder rattled the house from its foundation to the shingles of the roof. Moomin jolted to a sitting position, tense and immediately wide awake even though it was just about the middle of the night.

He stayed there for a moment, staring confusedly into the shadows of his room while the storm raged outside. Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, his breathing calmed and his shoulders slumped, exhaustion overtaking him once more. Lighting flashed outside, promptly followed by another clap of ear-ringing thunder. Startled, the troll fell off his bed onto the floor.

Moomin groaned in pain, groping in the dark for the pillow that had tumbled with him. After a minute, the door to his room clicked open. The space was flooded with the light of a candle.

“Moomin, are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, “I just fell.”

“Are you sure? That sounded like a hard fall.”

“Yes, I’m alright. Is that you, Snufkin?”

The vagabond stepped further into the space, illuminated by the candlelight. He did not reply, settling for offering an outstretched paw to the troll. He gratefully took it is his own, pulling himself to his feet.

“Oh, thank you. Did the storm wake you up as well?”

“No, I haven’t slept.”

Moomin made a noise of surprise and opened his mouth to chastise his friend, but he was interrupted. “I’ve been watching the rain through the windows,” Snufkin murmured, moving to peer out of the one in Moomin’s room. “I love watching the rain, especially when it’s heavy like this.”

The troll walked to join Snufkin at the window, who grinned. “Isn’t it beautiful? I think rain is one of the world’s treasures.”

Though Moomin didn’t quite understand Snufkin, he saw the tranquility in his eye as he wondered at the rain outside. It filled him with an emotion he could not place, but he felt that Snufkin was right about something. Perhaps he didn’t need to understand the rain.

Snufkin met his gaze. He smiled affectionately. Moomin smiled back.

 

 

The sun tipped her brow over the horizon, offering golden beams of light to the overcast sky. Snufkin took a deep breath of clean, rain-polished air, and Moomin gleefully hopped from puddle to puddle.

“Maybe that silly dragon will be back,” he mused, following the happy troll. “We can see if he’s matured at all.”

“No, that dragon is just as mature as Little My, and he always will be,” Moomin claimed, stopping to wait for his friend. “There are a lot of dragonflies out, though.”

This was true. Snufkin sloshed behind him and peered over his shoulder; he could see blue and purple dragonflies dashing about, stooping low to send ripples across the puddles which littered the field. Moomin was in pure awe at the bugs, attempting to track the paths they took in the sky. He shook his head.

“Man, they sure are fast. Watching them makes me dizzy.”

“Bet you I could catch one,” Snufkin mused. Moomin gasped in amusement, and Snufkin realized just then that he’d said that out loud.

“Could you?” he chirped, bouncing in his excitement. “Catch one, Snufkin! Catch one!”

The vagabond blinked owlishly at his friend, intending to protest the idea, but Moomin had such a bright spark in his eye that he couldn’t possibly say no now.

Moominmamma stepped onto the porch of Moominhouse to offer the boys some breakfast, but she was met with the spectacle of a very flustered Snufkin racing this way and that about the rain-soaked field. Moomin, whose feet were covered in muddy water, cheered from the periphery.

She would deny just how long she stayed there laughing to herself.

 

 

After a feast of pancakes and jam, Snorkmaiden implored that Moomin come with her and Little My to find some shells that had been washed up by the storm. He agreed, leaving Snufkin to retreat to the riverbed for the day.

He cast his line out into the gentle inundation, figuring he would catch something for later, when he heard a violent commotion from the forest nearby. Confused, he glared at the collection of trees from which the sound came, waiting for them to rattle again before he left to investigate.

Snufkin ambled along, casting his glance upwards every now and again to search the canopy for anything unusual. He felt uneasy, as though a pair of eyes with no known source were fixed on him and his every move. Drops of rainwater occasionally dotted his hat. He stepped thoughtfully through the fallen leaves and sticks, careful not to make too much noise, shoulders tense with anticipation.

A branch broke behind him. He whirled around so quickly that his hat fell to the ground. Snufkin braced to run when someone dropped from the trees with trained agility.

He sighed. “I should have known it was you.”

Joxter rose to a standing position, sending a toothy grin to his son. “It’s never a bad idea to be wary.”

“Papa, I was fishing. You didn’t need to interrupt me.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Joxter tipped his chin to Snufkin’s hat. “You dropped something,” he chided playfully, turning to walk from where the vagabond had come. The other swooped to pick his hat back up, following behind his father.

“I’m just passing through the Lonely Mountains,” the older man explained. “I didn’t realize that this is where you situate yourself.”

“I’ve stayed here every year for a good, long time now.” Snufkin shook the wet leaves off his hat before he placed it back onto his head. “You’ve seen me here at least twice.”

“Yes, but my memory isn’t what it used to be. There are far too many trees here for my old mind to remember.”

“You’re not old, Papa,” he laughed.

“Oh, I feel my age so,” Joxter whined exaggeratedly. “My bones, they ache. My knees creak like floorboards.”

“You just jumped from a tree.”

His father didn’t reply, but he snickered lightly. The two strolled in silence as they retraced Snufkin’s steps through the forest. When they came upon the riverbed, Joxter spoke.

“A good, long time you’ve been here…”

“That’s what I said.”

“Don’t you get tired?”

Snufkin plopped back down onto the bank of the river, where the waters had retired from where they’d flooded. “What do you mean?”

Joxter sat beside him as he cast his line. “You stay in one place for so long… don’t you get bored of it?”

“No, never. The people here make up for the stagnancy.”

“That’s right, you’ve got a little friend here, don’t you?”

Snufkin hummed. “And two sisters, Papa.”

“Yes, I remember now. Little My, and…”

“And?”

“And… another one.”

Snufkin huffed and reared back, skillfully drawing his fishing line from the river. At its end was a fat minnow. “You know, sometimes I am glad you didn’t raise me.”

Joxter raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“You are far too forgetful to be a father.” He flicked his line back into the river.

“I don’t think I can disagree with you, though I can’t say I’m not offended.”

“When you met me for the first time, you’d forgotten that I was once your daughter.”

“I don’t see why that’s a bad thing.”

Snufkin opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Defeated, he picked at the hem of his shirt.

“That isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” his father resumed. “You are losing your freedom, Snufkin. I fear you are no longer a vagabond at heart.”

Snufkin inhaled sharply, disquieted by what Joxter had said. His grip tightened on his shirt. “I… don’t think I understand, Papa.”

“You stay here for so long, only drawing away when the winter comes. And it doesn’t get tiring to you?” He situated himself onto his back, covering his face with his hat and crossing his arms behind his head.

“That’s… right.”

“Interesting.” They fell into a silence once more, one which had a troubling atmosphere to Snufkin. He pulled another fish to the riverbank, placing it in the bucket with the other. He considered their weight, deciding that this would be enough food for the day. The wanderer rose to his feet. As he bent to pick up his bucket, the silence was broken.

“You must really love the people here, then,” Joxter contemplated.

Snufkin froze. “Yes… I do.”

His father clicked his tongue. Snufkin started to walk to his tent, opening the flap before Joxter called to him.

“Snufkin!”

“Yes, Papa?”

He looked over his shoulder to meet his dad’s eye. He was now standing, hand on his hat, cerulean eyes demanding.

“Hold onto that, now.”

“…what?”

“Your love.”

Snufkin didn’t say anything. Joxter took to the mountains.

 

 

Summer turned to autumn and autumn turned to winter. The trees discharged their wine-red leaves upon the receding grass. The clouds threatened to drop just as much snow as they meandered across the sky. The air grew colder day by day, biting at the cheeks of the people who faced the wind.

Snufkin decided that it was time for him to leave.

Moomin busied his paws with the end of the vagabond’s scarf. “Stay warm… keep yourself fed…”

He chuffed at his friend’s concern. “I’ve done this my whole life, Moomin. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Yes, yes, you do. Remember to do it well.”

The two were standing on the bridge, their bridge, where Snufkin had just finished playing a song just for Moomin. The others were huddled in the Moominhouse, sipping tea to keep warm. The pair stayed for a long time, not speaking, just watching the clouds drift with the wind. After a while, a flake of snow fell from the sky to land on the tip of Moomin’s whisker. His nose twitched.

“Well then, it’s time for me to go. I can’t get stuck in the snow.”

Moomin sighed heavily. “You will come back, won’t you?”

“Of course I will.” Snufkin pressed a kiss to Moomin’s forehead. “You are one of the wonders of the Earth. I can’t stay away for too long.”

The troll gasped and beamed at Snufkin. He laughed.


End file.
